Rekindling Candles
by HomicidalSally
Summary: Arthur's accidental finding of a flyer for the school's mystery club catches his eye one day. Little did he know what joining this uncanny club would get him into. High School AU; human names used. ((IN PROGRESS))
1. Chapter 1

While scampering across the linoleum floors of the B hallway to his sixth hour class, Arthur had loss his footing and plummeted onto the ground. Papers and folders scattered everywhere and Arthur was laughed at by passersby. As he quickly snatched all of the flown papers, he noticed the parchment taped to the nearby, olive wall in front of him. The sign had said:

****MYSTERY CLUB****

**Come and solve the world's greatest enigmas!**

**First meeting: 19 Oct at 3:30 in the Detention Room**

The nineteenth, Arthur thought, that's today! He rose with his papers and folders back in his grasp and decided to go since he had nothing to do this Friday evening. Then suddenly the late bell had rung its melancholy tune; _dammit_, Arthur thought, late again. He then sauntered up the stairs to his geometry class.

The room looked like any typical classroom: white cinderblock walls, math posters randomly placed, wooden cabinets to the farthest wall, a whiteboard to the right, desks aligned in horizontal rows to the left, bright florescent lights above, and the teacher's desk to the far right hand corner. The teacher, Mrs. Jones, was Alfred's mother. Alfred just happened to be Arthur's love interest even though the feelings were not reciprocated. In contrast to lovable Alfred, his mother was frankly objectionable. "Late again, Arthur?" Mrs. Jones sneered. Arthur honestly thought she actually enjoyed calling him out every day.

"Obviously, Mrs. Jones," Arthur responded meandered to the middle row and sat towards the left next to the brightest student, Sherlock Holmes. To the right of him was the nicest student, John Watson; they both seemed to be only a year older than him.

John whispered under his breath, "It's okay, Arthur. We're not judging you."

"Thanks," Arthur responded in a hushed tone.

"Well Arthur," Mrs. Jones scoffed, "why were you tardy this time? I'm sure you'll be able to think of a great excuse for your laziness."

_Bitch_, Arthur thought. "Well you see ma'am," he began, "as I was trying to make a ninety degree angle from point A, let's say the B hallway, to point B, upstairs. Instead of doing that, my slippery sneakers made friction fail making me actually fall ninety degrees to the ground at nine point eight meters per second thanks to gravity. This made my papers fly everywhere and fall at the same speed because that's how gravity works. Then as I tried to recollect all of my fallen items, I noticed the Mystery Club sign. This made me distracted for about five seconds because I'm a fast reader, college level to be exact. When I had finally gotten up from the ground, the bell rang. Is that good enough for you, Mrs. Jones?"

Mrs. Jones was flustered at the long explanation, "U-Um, yes that will suffice."

HA, Arthur thought, take that you bloody broad! She then continued class by beginning to give explanation for parabolas. As Arthur began to write notes in his notebook, he noticed that Sherlock did not write anything down. How is that even possible, Arthur pondered, was he just _that_ smart? Sherlock realized Arthur's emerald eyes gawking at him and returned the glance with his ice blue ones. Startled, Arthur fidgeted and went back to jotting down annotations for parabolas. After what seemed like an eternity, the horrible class finally concluded. Arthur hastily left the classroom and went to his dark, forest green locker which was only a few paces away from the classroom. Once he had placed all his homework into his backpack, he headed downstairs towards the detention room. On his way there going through the narrow corridor, he bumped into people who were trying to exit the building. After saying excuse me, pardon me, and coming through so many times the words had lost their meaning, he finally found the big doors that had the sign Detention Room printed onto it. Arthur then pushed the weighty door open.

Inside the room, Arthur glanced around; he was the first one here. He had been in here multiple times due to his tardy record. The room was small and had three long, wooden tables that went from the large doorway to the head desk. The head desk near the furthermost wall was the same colour of the tables and was in front of a blackboard. Plastered on the blackboard was Mystery Club written in white chalk in all caps. The walls were the same, blank whitewash cinderblocks that surrounded the whole school. Arthur had taken a seat at the closest table near the far right facing the blackboard. He then put his head down and began to take a catnap. He was then awakened by the sound of the heavy door being slammed open. Arthur twisted his head to find John and Sherlock standing in the doorway.

"Oh Arthur," Sherlock said in his deep, unchaste voice, "I figured you would be here. I'm surprised you're not late."

"Lay off it Sherlock," John retorted in annoyance, "Don't listen to him, Arthur, he's just being an ass."

"I am not," Sherlock responded.

Arthur had interrupted, "Sherlock, are you the head of this club?"

"Um, yes I am."

"Then stop bickering with your husband and prepare for today's meeting."

John replied angrily, "I'm not gay!"

Arthur smirked as he sleepily glanced at John, "I never said you were." John's face reddened as he marched past him and headed towards the head desk. Sherlock soon followed. John pulled out a rather enormous packet and plopped it onto the desk; Sherlock pulled out his black Dell laptop and his odd, pink iPhone and placed it onto the desk. When Sherlock opened and booted up the laptop, his pale face was slightly illuminated by the light that radiated from the screen. Then the sound of a clicking keyboard had then filled the silent room. Arthur noticed no one else was showing up to the club meeting; he then went up to the front table like a ghost and sat down in the middle seat still facing the blackboard. "I wonder why no one else is showing up." Arthur thought out loud.

Sherlock backed away from his netbook and glanced at Arthur, "Because they only care about their superficial needs," his voice had gotten a sillier, girly tone, "like their _boyfriends_ or _girlfriends!_"

John went behind Sherlock and wrote on the board in the white chalk below the writing already there; what was written befuddled Arthur: The Case of the Reigniting Candles. As John wrote it he responded to Sherlock's remark, "Oh come on, Sherlock. They're just kids having fun."

Sherlock turned to face John, "You call sucking face with another person fun?"

John turned when he finished writing with chalk still in hand, "Depends on which girl I'm sucking face with."

Arthur interjected, "So what's with the Case of the Reigniting Candles?"

Sherlock turned his laptop to face Arthur; a dead corpse surrounded by blood and candles in a devil's trap circle are what was displayed onto the screen. "The candles have been rekindling for two days and no one knows why. No one knows how the body had gotten there, either."

John added, "Yeah, we've found over twenty four pages of articles about this weird phenomenon. We were planning to discuss them today."

Arthur checked the analog clock above the blackboard, it was three thirty. "Well it's three thirty now," Arthur remarked, "I guess we can start with the first page of the packet."

"Not before we explain what we know about the case," Sherlock said.

"Okay," Arthur replied, "what do you know?"

Sherlock leaned back onto the blackboard, "Well we know the victim is a male Satanist who was experimenting with the supernatural. He was thirty five years old and faking to be on a date with someone due to his fancy attire. How the candles rekindle and why do they matter? We don't know, until now that is." He glimpsed at John, "Read the first page John."

John began to read the packet, "Um, okay. It says here that the candles are used for unknown supernatural activity. The person that initiates the supposed ceremony is killed right after, but no one understands why. People suggest that the ceremony is meant to summon a mythical monster of gargantuan proportions, but no one knows for sure what this monster or demon looks like. All they do understand is that the creature is only summoned for bad deeds a normal homosapien could not possibly accomplish." He looked up from the paper, "So maybe the one killed was a killer himself."

Sherlock stroked his chin, "Hmm…..maybe. May I have a look through the packet?"

"Um, sure." John slid the heavy packet to the left towards Sherlock.

Sherlock read through the packet's contents in record time, "They all say the same thing but in different ways." He then pushed the papers towards the middle of the table, "This is getting us nowhere."

"Wait," Arthur interjected, "my grandmother might know something about this. She's all into the paranormal."

John replied with satisfaction, "Good idea!"

"I agree," Sherlock added.

"Okay, I'll do that when I get home today, "Arthur said, "I'll also look through her book collection. She must have a Satanist book somewhere in her uncanny library of odd books."

"Alright!" John replied, "So next week on Monday, we'll discuss Arthur's finds, agreed?" Everyone nodded in unison and the meeting was dismissed.

As Arthur walked home to his grandmother's house, the only sounds were the occasional automobile passing by on the nearby road and Arthur's sneakers hitting the sidewalk. That was until he heard a snarl behind him, _"Hey, kid."_ He quickly rotated around to find nothing there, _"Behind you."_ Arthur turned around once again a black silhouette of himself. The figure had blood red eyes and his legs were connected to Arthur's shadow; he also had long skimpy arms with large hands that had long claw-like fingers. His narrow, razor sharp teeth gleamed white as he grinned at Arthur.

"Wh-Who're you?" Arthur asked.

"_Ach ichs lisn digh."_

"You're my shadow?" how did I know what he was saying, Arthur pondered.

"_You could say that." _ The being then opened his mouth wide like a snake would and began to charge at Arthur. As in a reflex, Arthur had punched the inside of his mouth making him hurdle towards a nearby tree and disappear on impact.

"What the bloody hell." Arthur said indignantly.


	2. Chapter 2

Once at his grandmother's doorstep he knocked and opened the always unlocked door, "Grandmother, I'm home" he called, "I'm going to be in my room, okay?" no answer; Arthur assumed that she was sleeping. The house was small and had no upstairs. The shag carpet was a bright dandelion yellow and assorted paintings adorned the walls. Some of the well-done artwork was created by Arthur himself. The kitchen was a few paces forward from the doorway and through that room to the left was the flight of stairs that led to Arthur's room, also known as the basement. To the right furthermost wall of the living room next to the kitchen was a large landscape painting of a lake with mountains in the distance. There was also a floral couch below the extravagant work of art. Mounted on the right wall were a grey flat screen TV and a rocking chair to the left of that. On the leftmost wall was a large picture window that overlooked the autumn weather outside; to the left of that was a light grey loveseat. In between the couch and TV was an opening to the corridor that led to a guest room, bathroom, and Arthur's grandmother's bedroom. Arthur looked around momentarily and then headed forward to the kitchen and down the stairs to his room.

The whole basement was practically Arthur's room other than the washer and dryer area which was off to the far upper right. To the upper left was his bed which was against the wall in the corner and perpendicular to that was the infamous bookshelf that held all of his grandmother's mythical hard covers. In the center of the room was a small beige throw rug. Arthur had walked up to the rather wide, black bookshelf and gazed upon the four shelves at the spines of the eroded volumes; he then found a coal coloured bulky book that had a small red devil's trap printed onto the spine. As he pulled it out of its resting place, his arm immediately fell from its weight. He heaved it onto his twin-sized bed and then sat down next to it.

The cover had the same devil's trap that was on the spine but in a much larger print. Below it was a supposed title that said: Asdif Cych Hogligh. As Arthur felt the cover he noticed it was snakeskin and well made. He then gingerly opened the cover only to find the table of contents; page six hundred sixty six had contained the chapter titled, _Reigniting Candles_. Why was it in English, Arthur wondered, maybe the book was bilingual. When he had gotten to the page he noticed that is was black and there was some kind of weird lock printed onto the page. Arthur thought it was just for decoration but as he attempted to flip the page, the page would not turn. "What the hell?" he said aloud as he kept trying to grasp the edge of the page to flip it; it felt like it was super glued to the book. After a few minutes of endeavoring to pry the page from the volume, Arthur looked at the supposed lock more closely. The lock had four grey swirls in each corner with all the swirls turning counterclockwise; in the center of the page was an emerald transmutation circle. Arthur knew there was some kind of code to open the page but he did not know what it could possibly be. Then all of a sudden a waterfall of words flowed from his gaping mouth, "Open for that I am possibly up to murder of myself for the greater good of the world." The swirls then spun rapidly and the transmutation circle began to glow radioactive green which made the page turn ominously on its own. Arthur slammed the book shut in apprehension. "I _have_ to show this to Sherlock and John!" he then shoved the book into his nearby backpack and ran upstairs to converse with his grandmother.

As he sprinted into the living room, he noticed his grandmother in the rocking chair, "Oh good afternoon, Arthur." His grandmother was a quaint, little old lady with white curly hair and rosy cheeks; she was about seventy-five.

"Grandmother…." Arthur began as he tried to catch his breath, "I need to ask you something."

"Well okay, Artie. Have a seat; you look like you just ran a mile."

Arthur sat on the sofa, "It's because what I have to ask you is important."

"Well what is it, dear?"

Arthur took a deep breath, "Do you know about relighting candles?"

His grandmother's eyes widened and her tone had gotten stern, "Arthur, stay away from that."

"But-"

"I said stay away from it!"

Arthur was befuddled, "Why?"

"Because I said so! And I don't want to hear another word about it!"

"Um, okay." Arthur was definitely interested in these candles now. He rose from the couch and went back down to his room.

* * *

John was at home on his desktop computer looking up the candles once more. When he searched for it on the Google search engine, instead of getting candle related results, he had gotten results for trick houses and rooms. John was confused as would anyone else would be; he clicked on the first link and it just showed him a famous local trick house. There were no signs of relighting candles anywhere. John sighed in frustration and hit the back button to click on the other links. First link, there was no candles; second link, no candles. Third link, there was still no mentioning of candles. Fourth link, the only mentioning of candles was in the house's gift shop. Fifty links later, still zero results of relighting candles. John slammed his head on the desk and then winced from the horrible agony that ensued. He rubbed his now red and aching temple and grabbed his phone to call Sherlock.

Sherlock picked up after two rings, _"Did you find anything?"_

John groaned in pain, "Well hello to you too."

_"John, did you slam your head on your desk again?"_

John exhaled out of his nostrils, "…Yes."

_"For God's sake, John." _

"Oh shut up. By the way, I did not find anything on those candles, but I did find something you might find interesting."

_"If it's not related to the candles I don't want anything to do with it. Besides, the only thing you find interesting is naked women."_

"Oh lay off it, Sherlock! Anyway when I searched for the candles on Google, it gave me results for trick houses."

_"Trick houses?"_

"Yeah, I thought the same thing."

_"Foreshadowing, maybe?"_

"Maybe."

_"Hopefully Arthur will give us more information."_

"God, I hope so."

* * *

Arthur was lying in his bed and was staring up at the blank ceiling above. The only sound was the clock on the nearby wall ticking away all the valuable seconds humanity has taken for granite. His eyes darted from the backpack that was at the foot of his bed and back up towards the ceiling. "Why won't Grandmother tell me anything?" Arthur thought aloud as he rolled onto his right side.


End file.
